


Of Names and Being Forgotten

by Gatherer_of_Clouds



Series: In This Castle of Cards [2]
Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Child Abuse, Crayons, Dreams, Forgive Me, Gen, Good Parent Rouxls Kaard, King of Spades is a Jerk, Lancer-centric, Lesser Dad??? More like GREATER Dad!, POV Third Person Limited, Pre-Canon, Rouxls Kaard Wears Makeup, Unreliable Narrator, sort of...?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gatherer_of_Clouds/pseuds/Gatherer_of_Clouds
Summary: “[He] didn’t deserve to be forgotten. It didn’t matter to [him] what his crime was... [he] must have mattered to someone once...”
Relationships: Jevil & Lancer (Deltarune), Jevil & Seam (Deltarune), King of Spades & Lancer (Deltarune), Rouxls Kaard & Lancer (Deltarune)
Series: In This Castle of Cards [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019560
Kudos: 32





	Of Names and Being Forgotten

Lancer, Crowned Prince Spade of the Darkworld (though he preferred the title of ‘Dark Jack’ because not only did he come up with it himself, but it also made him sound like something awesome (a performer maybe?), considered himself to be very, very cool. This had nothing to do with the fact that he would someday be king. To him it was just a job (even if it was a very cool job for a cool guy like himself to have in the future).

No. He was cool because he upgraded his bike by himself, with only an iota of help from his Lesser Dad. Of course, he didn’t ask for help, but Rouxls Kaard felt compelled to discourage him from using fire powder on his bike when he walked in on Lancer about to light it ablaze. Only after Lancer’s awesome powers of persuasion did he give in and let him use it, but still demand to help him (even though he wasn’t a baby and really didn’t need it). Lancer would have told his dad about how he successfully swayed Rouxls into letting him do it, but another term of getting Lesser Dad to let him modify his bike was that he couldn’t tell his father under any circumstances. The boy was slightly disappointed for not being able to impress his dad and earn the title of “Son of the Month” just yet, but he finally had his own secret! All the best villains and powerful people had fantastic secrets after all!

It was a little tragic that he didn’t have a best friend to share his secret with (the servants didn’t count and his father didn’t want him playing with other kids his age because he was ‘above them’ which was false because they were technically above him (Lancer was short for his age and his father didn’t let him forget it)), but his Lesser Dad assured him that the less people who know about a secret, the better the secret it is. Lancer doubted that, but he would soon finance real friends to test that theory with (it couldn’t take that long).

What Lancer didn’t understand was that he made signs to help people, hid food for himself for the winter or when his dad was in one of his bad moods and wouldn’t let Lancer eat dinner (he probably deserved it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hungry)), and other awesome things just fine. So this shouldn’t have been any different. For whatever reason, the fire powder he bought (with his own allowance mind you) from the strange button eyed cat near the Field of Hopes and Dreams alarmed Rouxls greatly.

“Honestly, Lancer’s juste like that fiend Jevil-,” he covered his mouth and glanced around worriedly, “... you knowst… Always messing with things he shouldn’t. Hanging arounde that ragged olde feline...it’s enough to drivest me crazy!” He’d exclaimed to a regular customer about a week after they modified his bike. Rouxls thought that Lancer was too busy across the room coming up with a super cool evil plan to impress his dad with to notice, but he’d been paying attention to every word Rouxls said. He was immensely curious. So, because Rouxls and his father were both busy for the rest of the day and he had to do chores, he was forced to wait to ask his question until dinner.

“Who’s ‘Jevil’?” Lancer asked that night. Rouxls’s eyes widened from his position by the door, and his hands started shaking. Poor Lesser Dad, Lancer thought, he’s probably really cold over there. He looked at all the other servants and guards, they started huddling together and shaking too. Maybe they need thicker clothes? It was getting closer to the start of autumn, but Lancer was still wearing his summer clothes and wasn’t cold at all.

“‘Jevil’?” His father was about to take a sip from his wine glass, but put it back on the table when Lancer spoke up, “What do you mean?” His father glowered down at him, “Where did you hear that?” The King of Spades’s voice boomed in the otherwise quiet hall, and he leaned on the dinner table. Lancer shrunk back in his chair hoping to disappear into the cushions. He knew then that he’d made a mistake from his father’s tone and posture, but he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done wrong this time. Usually he at least had a faint idea, but this time he couldn’t even come up with a guess, “Well? Answer me, boy!” He slammed his fist down on the table, shaking the plates and glasses. Why had his question angered his dad?

“I…” Lancer didn’t want to get in trouble, especially for lying, but his father looked really angry, and Lancer didn’t want him to get mad at Rouxls too. Whoever this Jevil was, he must be an enemy of The Knight (even Lancer could hear the capitalization in that title) that his father talked about all the time, “I just heard someone say it… the corridors were crowded. I didn’t see who it was, father. I’m sorry,”

“You expect me to believe that?” The king stood up sharply, and his chair flew backwards. There was a loud bang from it crashing into the marble floor, and then silence. In a few quick strides, the king was around on Lancer’s side of the table. He ripped his son from the chair and held him up by his hood. Lancer started gagging from the way the hood was wrapped tightly around his neck like a boa constrictor. Tears burned in his eyes, but he couldn’t cry now because crying would make his dad angrier. 

“Thy majesty!” Rouxls cried out, “The faulte is mine, I accidentally said it in fronteth of the child…”

“You said it…” the other servants and guards flinched and sank deeper into the floor as if doing so could make them invisible from their king, “Kaard…” the king slammed Lancer back into his seat. The poor boy wheezed through his aching throat and his hands flew to his neck. When he could breathe properly again he pulled his hood back over his eyes to hide the tears that began streaming down his face. The king stormed away from the table and advanced on the duke. He reached for Rouxls’s chest and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, “What have I told you… to everyone… about speaking of him?”

“W-Well thy majesty-“

“Lancer!” the boy nearly jumped out of his fur, “No dinner for a week, and you’re grounded for a month. If you ever say that name again… well… I don’t think you’d even want to know the punishment I have in mind for you,” he flexed his unoccupied fist, “Leave this room now…” Without sparing a second glance, Lancer jumped up from his chair and bolted from the room. 

The young Darkner tripped into his room and fell on to the floor. He kicked the door close with his foot, and curled up in a sobbing heap. He didn’t bother to rub the tears away, there were too many. They flooded down his face and slicked his cheeks. He was vaguely aware that if his dad heard him crying pathetically like this, his punishment would be made worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to care (he deserved whatever punishment his dad gave him). Eventually Lancer’s sobs died down to little hiccups, but he didn’t want to move off the floor. The only movement he made was the involuntary shaking from his outburst.

“Hey! Hey! What’s the matter with you?” A shrill voice called from above him. It sounded like the voice was teasing him, but there was an undertone of concern and care. Lancer curled in on himself even more hoping perhaps that the world would compress him into a small bit of nothing, “Oh come now, little prince! Don’t cry, for I have a new trick to show you!~”

“Why?” Lancer sniffed, “It’s not gonna make me happy…” A gloved hand gently tilted his chin upward. Lancer blinked to try to clear his tears, but his vision remained blurred. He couldn’t see many details of the face above him, but he could tell that it was lilac colored and that it… she?… he?... Yes! He!

He was pulling a funny face with a stuck out tongue and bugged out void-like eyes. For whatever reason, Lancer knew the face above him. Whoever it belonged to was kind and funny… He comforted Lancer when he couldn’t sleep, he was gentle and didn’t yell at him, and he knew that when he was with this person, he was safe. Lancer pushed himself closer into the Darkner’s chest and his shaking reduced into the occasional tiny twitch. 

“Getting you, you to laugh will be as easy and fun as slapping a cream pie to someone’s face, face!” He barked a strange, yet hearty laugh, “After all, Ḯ̸̧̯̜̈́̇ ̸̥̲̭͌͑ ̵͙̰̊̏̔ ̴̻̇͊͝c̶͍̄̓́ ̸̫̭̎a̸͎̔͂ ̸̩̪͇̽ń̷̞͇ ̴̞͖́ ̴̩̪͈̊̌́ ̷͓͔̓ḍ̶̱͙̈́̈ ̸̨̮̝̾o̶̥̓͊ ̵̯̥͛̒͘ ̵̫̄ ̶̬͍͈̊̋̔a̵͉̫̪͗̄ ̶͖͚̙̾n̴̳͝ ̶̥̳͇̊y̵̢̥̍̓ ̶͇̇͜͝ṫ̴͙̄ ̵̥͊͆h̴̢͇̓ ̸̯͍̓̀̒i̷̳̱̭̅̓ ̵̡̧̐̇n̸̡̫̽̔͠ ̴̙͕̓͂g̸̗̏ ̸͙͐͒̓!̴͈̠͆̐̋

.  
.  
.

Lancer jolted up in his bed, and banged his arm on his bike’s handlebar. He winced and clutched it to his chest, and gave his bike a silent apology by giving it a gentle pat. He didn’t think that he’d hit it hard enough where it would leave a bruise. The young prince considered himself able to tell these kinds of things rather easily. He had plenty of experiences falling off the bike, attack practices gone wrong, and… when he really disappointed his dad… 

Lancer gasped. His dad! He said no dinner, but not no breakfast. Which meant that he was still expected to be on time for breakfast. If he didn’t make it to the table soon, his dad would think that he was slacking! Lancer threw off the sheets, jumped out of bed, and ran to the door. Before he got there, he skidded to a stop, tucked his bike back in, ran back towards the door, and into Rouxls. The duke managed to catch him before he was sent tumbling onto his back.

“Lancer! Watcheth where thou art going! Thou will end up hurting someone!”

“Sorry, Lesser Dad…” Lancer muttered. He was very glad his father wasn’t outside his room to see him running indoors and then mumble to someone.

“It’s fine,” Rouxls crouched down, “Would thou liketh to have breakfast with me in my shop? Your father is very busy meeting with… his advisors,” Lancer almost slouched with relief, but didn’t because that would be un-prince-like. He’d already messed up by mumbling earlier, and it would be prudent to be on his best princely behavior at all times in order to please his dad to get back on his good side (it was a little too early to hope for a chance at getting the “Son of the Month” title anytime soon, and the only way that would change if two Lightners fell from the sky (like that would ever happen)).

“Yes please! And how come I never see these advisors?” Lancer grabbed Rouxls’s hand and started walking at a brisk pace towards his Lesser Dad’s shop.

“Ah...well they’re the solitary typeth, and they don’t typically hangeth around to longe,” The duke picked Lancer up and placed him on the counter. Rouxls handed him a breakfast bar from a higher shelf, and took one for himself as well. Lancer and Rouxls munched in silence for a while. The boy picked at his bar trying to eat around the bits of fruit he didn’t like. His brow scrunched up when a fruit got into his mouth. He couldn’t understand why anyone would enjoy such a bitter taste. He’d had enough of it in his mouth that morning when he noticed that his Lesser Dad was wearing more makeup than usual. Lancer hoped that it was because he was trying a new look and not because of his dad… His dad was very cool though! He wouldn’t hurt Rouxls if he didn’t deserve it, which he didn’t. So it was stupid of him to still be upset over it.

“I must apologize, Lancer,” Rouxls sighed, “Thou must never uttereth that name around your father. Understandeth that I never should’ve said it in front of thou,” the older Darker began to busy himself by preparing his shop for opening.

“But you did!” Lancer put the unfinished bar down, “You compared me to him! Who is he?”

“Thoust never met him. It is best to forget thoust ever heard his name,”

“I can’t,” Lancer began to get louder, “Not when I saw him last night,”

“Thou saw him!?” Rouxls’s voice jumped up an octave. He whipped his head of silver hair around to gape at Lancer with a horrified expression, and nearly dropped the jar of worms.

“Yeah!” Lancer bounced up and down, “Well… sort of. I mean I saw him in my dream last night. It had to have been this Jevil person! I haven’t ever seen anyone else that looks like that! Besides, what did he do? Why can’t we talk about him?” Lancer wasn’t sure why, but he felt a streak of protectiveness for this strange and mysterious Darker.

“Lancer,” Rouxls’s face contorted into a strange expression of pity and resolution, “It is best for thou to forgeteth about whatever it is that thoust dreamed up. Thy father has decreed that his name shan’t be spoken aloud ever again,” Rouxls raised a hand to his left cheek and turned slightly away, “Thou don’t want to anger and disappoint him, correct?”

“No…” Lancer frowned and rested his face on his fists.

“Good. Something I can tell thou about him is that he askedeth too many questions, and his curiosity was his downfall,” Rouxls reached under his desk and pulled a box of crayons, and handed it to Lancer. The box was new and undented, and he turned it around in his blue hands to get a good look at it. He opened it up with a feeling of wonder and surveyed the contents. The crayons were brand new, and there were many different shades of each and every color, “Now be a good lad and runneth back to thy room,” Rouxls slid a small pile of paper towards him too.

“Thank you, Lesser Dad!” Lancer grabbed the paper and eagerly trotted back to his room. He stuck his tongue out and unceremoniously dumped the crayons out on the floor. A few years back his father told him that crayons were for babies, and forbade him from coloring and making “childish doodles” when he could be doing something useful. His Lesser Dad had occasionally snuck him some crayons, but never a full pack! Lancer laid out a blank sheet and began to draw a self portrait. His art skills could use some improvement, but he was very pleased with himself over all. He brushed it aside, ready to start on the next drawing, but felt that something was missing. He pulled it back over to him and stared into the drawing’s face.

Lancer looked over his shoulder at the door and stared at it for a while too, but it stubbornly stayed shut. What Lesser Dad and his father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He pulled a light purple crayon out from the pile and hesitantly began to draw Jevil’s face. He bit his lip trying to recall the dream (or was it a memory?). It all seemed so foggy, but Lancer wouldn’t be deterred that easily! He did his best to draw what he could remember of Jevil, and took several artistic liberties along the way. His jester’s hat didn’t come out quite right, Lancer couldn’t remember (assuming he knew in the first place) what color teeth he had, and he entirely guessed on what his body looked like (Jevil seemed like the kind of person with a tail (a tail that was like a curved scythe blade at the end like a scorpion’s perhaps?)). However, he tried his best.

The drawing was still missing something, much to his disappointment. Lancer was in the middle of the page with Jevil to his right, but the left side was empty. He frowned. What else could he add? He looked around his room for inspiration. His bike? No. His pictures on the wall? No. Like a coin to a magnet, his eyes were drawn (no pun intended) to the bag of fire powder from the strange plush cat. Hadn’t Rouxls said something about Jevil and that cat together? Were they friends (they must have been)? Lancer picked up the dark orange crayon and added Seam to the picture. Lancer laughed to himself with an enormous feeling of pride and self-satisfaction. The picture was almost complete. He picked up the black crayon, and shakily wrote a message at the bottom: Don’t Forget. Now it was perfect! Lancer stood up and held the picture as tightly as he could without risking damage.

Jevil didn’t deserve to be forgotten. It didn’t matter to Lancer what his crime was (how could the person in the dream/memory be terrible enough to not be talked about?). Jevil must have mattered to someone once (Seam most likely and maybe him too?), and even though he was gone (at least that’s what Lancer assumed), someone ought to remember. He folded up the picture and put it underneath his mattress with a small pat. He could wait a month to get some answers from Seam… Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Fire Powder- How I headcannon that Lancer could have fire on his bike without lighting the whole thing ablaze or burning himself. Feel free to use or not. :)
> 
> Advisors- Either real advisors, representatives of The Knight, The Knight himself, or King Spades trying to contact The Knight. Take your pick~
> 
> Rouxls wears makeup. Enough said.


End file.
